* This
is a work of fiction, blah blah blah. Any resemblances to reality are purely
coincidental, blah blah blah.

Smoke curled upwards
from the man's cigar like a wayward sailboat at sea. A glass of tea sat in
front of him, ornamented with a lemon. Slowly he raised the cigar to his lips
and took a deep drag, inhaled deeply, and released the smoke from his mouth and
nose in a long, steady stream.

"Özgur?"
a voice speaking in Turkish called from the corridor outside the dark study
where the man was seated.

"Yes,"
was the man's terse reply.

"It is I,
Ertan."

Özgur titled
his head slightly in acknowledgement. He set his cigar down in an ashtray and
followed the other man's movements with his eyes. Ertan inched his way toward
where Özgur was seated. He lowered himself so that he was level with Özgur. A
slight smile formed on Ertan's face.

"Ireally
cannot help but notice that you seem less than exalted to see me," he said
slowly as a nervous laugh escaped him. Özgur said nothing. Ertan cleared his
throat and tried again.

"You know,
as charming as you are when you're silent and scowling, you really do have a
lovely smile. Do you think you could put it on display for me?"

Again,
Özgur was silent. Ertan arose, and said "Right. Be seeing you."

He started to
walk away, but he stopped when Özgur spoke. "Wait. Don't go away. I'm sorry,
darling--I really would like to speak to you."

Ertan turned
around and faced Özgur.

"You know I
love you," Özgur began slowly. "You must know that. I love you more than
anyone or anything." He sighed. "But I've taken on a new case that's put
me in the constant company of a man that I work with. I...I think I'm falling for
him, Ertan!" Özgur leaned forward and, with his elbows on his desk, buried
his face in his hands.

For several
moments neither man spoke. Ertan once again made his way over to where Özgur
was seated. This time, however, he did not lower himself to be level with the
seated Özgur. He towered over the other man. With the full impact of Özgur's
words having hit him, he began to speak impassionedly.

"What are
you telling me, Özgur? You say you love me more than anything, yet you're
willing to toss me aside for another man you've just met? Is that what you're
telling me?" He was shouting now, gesticulating in ways that he wasn't even
aware of.

Özgur looked
up and stared his lover full in the face. "Never, Ertança, never. That is never
what I would say nor do to you. By Allah, you must know that I would never
leave you for another man."

Ertan stared
at the floor, his fists clenched at his sides. Also clenched were his buttocks and
his innards, although he was not at all aware of this. "Then suppose you
tell me," he hissed, "what you are telling me."

Özgur arose
from his chair and took Ertan's fists. He unclenched them and intertwined
Ertan's fingers with his own. He looked deeply into Ertan's eyes and gazed at
him intently until Ertan could not possibly look away.

"AllI'm
saying is that I want you to meet this man. I'm almost positive he's
homosexual. If you like him and he agrees, maybe we can invite him over one
night and hopefully, you know..."

"We can
fuck him senseless?" Ertan finished for him. He let out an incredulous
laugh. "I can't believe you. I simply cannot believe you. This is..." He
sighed. "This is one hell of a proposal that you're springing on me. I just
don't know..."

"It would
only be after I fuck you
senseless," Özgur replied, giving Ertan a peck on the lips. "Why not
just give him a try? You know he would never in any way take your place. No one
possibly could after twenty-three years." Ertan smiled, and tears began to
fill his eyes and fall down his cheeks. The two men embraced and held each
other tightly for at least a minute. Then they walked out of the study arm in
arm.

*

Later that
evening the two were hunched over an evening meal of pilav. Seated close
together in the dining room's leather booth, they exchanged bites from each
other's plates and related tales of each one's day. It was not long before the
talk got around to the man Özgur had mentioned. This time their language had
switched to English.

"He's
Hungarian," Özgur said. "His name is Bálinyi. Gabor Bálinyi. He's a bit short,
but quite good-looking. Nice smile, and a really nice arse--I'm sure his hole is
nice and tight. I work with him on my current account, the one with Prendergast
& Sons. I think you'll like him, Ertan. I've gotten to know him fairly well
both on the case and when we take cigarette breaks. He's very sweet."

"Oh yes, he
certainly does sound sweet," Ertan chortled. "In fact, I'm not sure I can even
handle so much...sweetness. I just might suffer a diabetic stroke."

Özgur put his
fork down and stared at Ertan in surprise. "You're still angry."

"Shouldn't I
be?" Ertan said evenly.

"I've already
told you that you have nothing to be upset about. I told you that no
matter what, I'll always love you the most."

Ertan sighed.
"Yes, I know, my love. It's just that, well, we've had something so solid for all
these years. In twenty-three years only several times have you even looked at
another man, much less considered bringing one home to me. Now all of a sudden
you meet some fellow at work who just happens to have a nice arse, and you fall
head over heels in lust. It's just not like you, Özgur."

Özgur slipped
his hand inside Ertan's. "I know how you feel, Ertança. I realize that
this must seem jarring. But why don't you wait until you meet Bálinyi? If
things don't go well with him or if you decide you don't feel comfortable then
I'll tell him to exit our lives and never come to our home again."

*

Özgur sipped
from his cup of coffee the next morning at work. He was in the process of
typing up a fifteen-page brief when Gabor Bálinyi stepped into his cubicle.

"I'm sorry to
bother you since you look so busy, but I needed your advice," Gabor said in his
enticing Hungarian accent, smiling sheepishly.

Özgur turned
around and faced him, doing his best to mask the intense excitement he was feeling.
"I'll do what I can."

"I need to
submit a preliminary brief to Angela, but I am not sure where to start with the
particulars of the Prendergast case. You seem to have that knowledge on hand,
and I was wondering if you could share with me the details that I am in the
dark about."

Özgur was
baffled, but truth be told, any moment that he was in Gabor Bálinyi's company
was a moment worth spending. He was not sure where to begin--the intimate
details of the case were not well known to him either--but he prattled along the
best he could. Gabor was sitting next to him, taking notes. The two men were
close enough that their knees were touching. Özgur's heart was racing slightly,
and a feverish feeling was spreading to his loins. He wondered if Gabor was even
aware of the effect that he was having on him, much less if the feeling was in
any way mutual. Özgur was positive that Gabor was gay, and while Gabor was
friendly to him, Özgur had not received any signals that Gabor was attracted to
him sexually. Özgur continued to talk, but he was no longer even aware of what
he was saying. Every bit of his attention was focused on Gabor: his delicate
hand writing notes in a small, neat print, his brow furrowed with
concentration, his curly brown hair with the cute lock gracing his forehead,
his bright blue eyes, his soft, youthful cheeks, and his lovely, delicate
mouth. Whenever he smiled, dimples formed on both sides of his mouth. He was
beautiful.

Özgur's spell
was broken when Gabor tittered and said, "You're trailing off." Özgur shook his
head and cleared his throat. "Sorry," he muttered, thoroughly embarrassed. He
felt like such a fool. Here he was, lusting openly after Gabor, and now Gabor
was fully aware of it. What would the younger man think?

His fears were
quickly dashed by the continuing grin on Gabor's face. The dimples in his
cheeks stood out prominently on his face. "You like me, don't you?" he
whispered impishly.

"I haven't
made it too obvious, have I?" Özgur asked hesitantly, with a nervous laugh.

Gabor returned
the laugh. "My mother always advised my sister to be careful about Turkish men.
I guess she never realized that I was the one she should have been
warning."

Özgur suddenly
turned serious as he gazed deeply into Gabor's eyes. "You know that I have a
lover whom I've been faithful to for many, many years."

"Yes, I think
I've seen him. Tall fellow, mustache?"

"Yes. His name
is Ertan, and I have every intention of remaining faithful to him. He comes first
to me. But I was wondering if you would like to come to our home and get to
know the two of us. I've talked it over with him, and he would like to meet
you."

Gabor was
silent for some time. At last his eyes lit up and he said, "You know, this was
a lot more than I was expecting when I came to you for advice." His face broke
into a smile, perfect white teeth on display for Özgur. "I'd love to."

Özgur was
elated. Without thinking, he put his arms around Gabor's shoulders, pulling him
close and kissing him on the mouth. Gabor reacted with surprise, then laughed.
All Özgur could think was, I don't know how I am going to wait until day's
end to hold him in my arms and be inside his asshole.

*

The day had
been cold, and it was even colder now. Gabor Bálinyi warmed his hands in the
hot air that flowed from the heating vent. The two men didn't speak much in the
heavy traffic that Özgur was carefully navigating his 1999 Chevy Chrysler
through.

"Where do you
live?" Gabor asked.

"East of the
city, in Manhasset."

Gabor
considered this information. "I live in Hell's Kitchen, in an apartment. It's
noisy, but at least something is always happening."

The lights of
the city and the traffic illuminated the two men's faces. Otherwise, the
evening was as gray as an iron slate. Some forty minutes later, Özgur pulled
into the long driveway of the sprawling ranch-style home that he and Ertan
shared. Ertan's blue Porsche sat outside the garage. A wave of nervousness
suddenly came upon Özgur. What if Ertan changed his mind about the whole thing?
He hadn't exactly been ecstatic about the endeavor. It was only after much
needling on Özgur's part that he was able to convince Ertan to go along with
it. What if Ertan didn't share Özgur's feelings for Gabor? That's just a
risk I'm going to have to take, Özgur decided as he parked his car next to
Ertan's and got out. Gabor also got out, and Özgur took his arm and led him
into the house.

The house was
warm, and this was most welcome to the two men. Özgur led Gabor to the living
room, where Ertan was seated on a divan drinking a warm mug of anise. Özgur
told Gabor, "I'd like you to meet Ertan Kesgin, the love of my life. Ertança,
this is Gabor Bálinyi."

Ertan rose to
his feet and stared at Gabor. Gabor's eyes shifted to the ground, and he was
blushing slightly. He knew he was being appraised and it made him
uncomfortable. After what felt like an eternity the corners of Ertan's mouth
rose in a small smile, and he took Gabor's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze,
saying, "It's very nice to meet you."

Gabor looked
up at Ertan and smiled shyly, dimples gracing his cheeks.

"Have you
gentlemen eaten yet?" Ertan asked them. Both men shook their heads.

"I am pleased to
hear that, as I have prepared a small meal for the three of us." Özgur still
had hold of one of Gabor's arms, and Ertan gently took the other one. They led
him through the hallway and into the dining room. Gabor felt slightly like he
was being held prisoner by these two delightful, handsome Turks; it was a
feeling that left him feverish and tingling in the groin. He was so hot under
the collar that he had no appetite for food. Nevertheless, he took the place
that Ertan had set for him at the table and sat down to eat.

The three men
chatted amongst themselves during supper, with Özgur and Ertan doing the bulk
of the talking. Gabor watched his two hosts intently, trying to get a feel for each
of them. They were both equally handsome in their own ways. He knew Özgur
better and felt more comfortable with him, but he was happy to see that Ertan
was warming to him. He picked at his food idly. It tasted fine, but he was not
the least bit hungry. Fortunately, Ertan had also served warm Darjeeling, and
this Gabor imbibed enthusiastically. It had a pleasant taste and he found it
highly invigorating.

The house was
quite exotic in both its design and décor, and to Gabor's eyes it took on an
almost sterile look; if not for its central heating he would have considered it
ice cold. But centrally heated it was, and this along with the hot tea and his
charming hosts were making him feel cozy and right at home.

At last Ertan
and Özgur got up from their seats and began clearing away their places. Gabor
followed suit, carrying his plate and mug into the kitchen. Ertan stood at the
sink, rinsing the dishes and placing them into the dishwasher. Gabor helped
with the dishes, thanked his hosts for the meal, and inquired after a rest
room. He wanted to freshen up.

After having
used the toilet, he splashed water onto his face and opened the mirror cabinet.
He felt guilty about snooping, but he felt that he was in desperate need of
what he was seeking. Having found it--a bottle of cologne--he spruced himself up
and combed through his hair with his fingers. He made his way back to his
hosts, who were still in the kitchen waiting for him. After exchanging a few
pleasantries, Özgur and Ertan led Gabor into the master bedroom. They slipped
off their shoes and left them outside the door. Özgur suddenly took Gabor by
the shoulders, gazed penetratingly into his eyes, and said softly, "Do you want
this now, Gabor?"

"Yes," Gabor
replied without hesitation, his heart pounding. In truth, he was not sure if he
felt prepared. But every cell in his body was crying out in need, and there was
absolutely no going back now.

Almost the
instant they were inside the bedroom, Özgur pushed Gabor onto the bed and began
undressing him. Ertan climbed onto the bed and began unbuttoning Gabor's shirt
while simultaneously peeling off his own clothes.

Gabor's head
was reeling at the speed with which all of this was occurring. He wanted to
tell the two older men to slow down a little, but he didn't dare say a word.
This was just too exciting. His heart was racing so fast and so hard that he
was afraid it would burst out of his chest. Özgur had removed Gabor's pants by
now, and Ertan was working on his shirt. When he had at last doffed the shirt,
Ertan snaked his head around to the front of Gabor's chest and began flicking
at his nipples with his tongue. A tortured moan escaped Gabor. Özgur pushed him
further up onto the bed, and he began to remove Gabor's underwear. He did it so
slowly and deliberately that Gabor felt like screaming. Not surprisingly, Özgur
saw that Gabor's cock was rock-hard and fully erect. Özgur and Ertan removed
the last vestiges of their own clothing, and Özgur climbed onto the bed to join
the other two.

Gabor was
lying in Ertan's lap, his legs splayed out in front of the two of them. Ertan
had his arms around Gabor's chest, holding him firmly in place; his fingers
played with Gabor's nipples tantalizingly. Özgur positioned himself between
Gabor's legs, and holding them down with his elbows, he leaned forward and took
Gabor's hard cock into his mouth. Gabor almost shrieked with pleasure. After
nearly a minute of bobbing his head up and down Gabor's cock and taking him all
the way down his throat, Özgur lifted his head and issued Ertan a silent
instruction. Ertan nodded, and he and Özgur lifted Gabor up and maneuvered him
so that Ertan had Gabor's buttocks over his face. Ertan used his hands to part
Gabor's cheeks and he began tonguing his anus, gently at first and then with
more force, probing his tongue deeper and deeper inside the puckered entry.
Gabor was whimpering and crying out like a puppy. Özgur continued delivering
him a blowjob while Ertan tongue-fucked him, and at last Gabor screamed as his
cock twitched and come spurted out into Özgur's mouth and down his throat. His
passageway clenched repeatedly around Ertan's tongue. Gabor was now sighing and
breathing heavily, and tears were forming in his eyes. This was the best orgasm
he had ever had in his thirty-eight years on the planet.

Özgur finished
swallowing down Gabor's semen, then he licked all the excess come off of
Gabor's cock. He lifted his head and kissed Gabor deeply and passionately.
Tears continued falling down Gabor's cheeks. He was so overwhelmed and so, so
happy. He could taste himself in Özgur's mouth, and he found this erotic as
hell. Özgur broke the kiss and took Gabor's face in his hands, caressing him
gently and wiping away the tears.

"How long has
it been since you've had someone love you like this?" he asked Gabor tenderly.

Gabor
sniffled. "I, well, um, I..." he tried to say but found that he couldn't.

"That's what I
suspected," Özgur replied. He resumed kissing Gabor and then realized that he
was neglecting Ertan.

Gabor wiped
away the last of his tears and watched, fascinated, as Özgur and Ertan cradled
and caressed one another, all the while speaking huskily in Turkish. Özgur bent
down between Ertan's legs and began administering to Ertan what Gabor could
only imagine was as exquisite a blowjob as the one he had just received. Ertan
was making little keening sounds, approaching closer and closer to climax.
Gabor watched as Özgur slipped a finger inside Ertan's anus, and this proved to
be the last straw for Ertan. He cried out, arching his back, and Özgur once
again began swallowing. He roved his tongue up and down Ertan's cock, following
its every crease and contour, licking away every last trace of semen just as he
had done with Gabor.

All of this
was making Gabor exceedingly hot all over again. His cock was hardening and his
breathing was becoming heavy. He felt a sudden desire, no, need for one
of their cocks inside him. Luckily that was just what Özgur had in mind. Özgur
took Gabor by the shoulders and pushed him onto his back in a manner that was
both tender and forceful. Ertan took hold of his arms and held them tightly,
effectively pinning him down. Özgur got up and rummaged through the
nightstand's drawer. He produced a container of lubricant and returned to the
bed. He applied the lube to his huge, erect cock and to Gabor's hole with
glistening fingers. Then he lifted Gabor's legs and hooked them over his
shoulders so that they were draping them. He scooted himself forward, his
lubricated cock poking Gabor's bottom, and Gabor was about to go out of his
mind with excitement.

Özgur slipped
his hands under Gabor's buttocks and gripped them tightly as he lined his cock
up against Gabor's hole and slowly pushed. The head of Özgur's cock penetrated
Gabor's anus, and Gabor yelped. It had been a long time since someone had done
this to him and the pain coursed through him; it was almost unbearable, and
once again tears pricked at his eyes, this time of agony rather than euphoria.

Özgur
continued to slowly push himself in, with Gabor still writhing in pain. While
Özgur reveled in the glorious tightness and warmth surrounding his cock, Gabor
only wished that he could free himself of Özgur's cock, despite his intense
desire for sex. But slowly, very slowly, the pain did indeed ease, and a
feeling of sheer heaven gradually took its place. Özgur's cock in his tight
arse felt so amazing that Gabor thought he really had died and gone to heaven.
As soon as it was clear to Özgur that Gabor felt comfortable enough for him to
proceed, he pulled his cock out and thrust back in. He did this over and over and
over again, increasing the tempo bit by bit. Ertan still had Gabor's arms
shackled with his own, but he scooted forward so that his fingers were able to
tease Gabor's nipples. Gabor was in a state of absolute ecstasy; so was Özgur,
who found that being inside Gabor was every bit as wonderful as he had
imagined.

Gabor began to
babble in his euphoric state, unknowingly mixing his English with Hungarian.
Özgur continued fucking him, thrusting deep inside only to pull out and slam
back in, pausing to perform a circular grinding motion at the bottom of each
thrust. Ertan said something in Turkish and Özgur responded breathlessly.

The waves in
Gabor's chestnut-colored hair were matted with sweat; his heart was beating
faster and faster as he was brought ever closer to peaking. Özgur once again
slammed deep inside him and ground his cock against his rectal walls, and this
time Gabor did peak. He cried out in rapture, and come splashed between
himself and Özgur. Özgur also cried out as Gabor's anal passageway clenched
around his cock, and after a few moments Gabor felt warmth flood his insides as
Özgur climaxed inside him. Özgur continued thrusting as he rode the aftershocks
of his orgasm, and then he collapsed on top of Gabor. Ertan released Gabor's
arms and unhooked his legs from Özgur's shoulders, lowering them gently onto
the bed. He then focused his attention on Özgur, rubbing his shoulders and
kissing the back of his neck. Özgur, still experiencing the effects of his
powerful orgasm, was unable to speak, but he reached up and took Ertan's hand
and squeezed it lovingly. Ertan wrapped his arms around Özgur and at last Özgur
removed himself from Gabor and settled into Ertan's arms.

The two men
held each other tenderly and repeatedly told one another "I love you" in
Turkish. Gabor sat up and watched them longingly, fighting back tears. How he
missed having someone to come home to and love every night just as these two
had. As his hosts caressed each other and shared secrets that only they knew,
Gabor could no longer resist letting the tears fall. After a few minutes Ertan
glanced back at Gabor and noticed him crying silently.

Both men
untangled themselves from each other's arms and embraced Gabor. Ertan pulled
him onto his lap while Özgur embraced him from the front, sandwiching Gabor
between his two hosts. Being held and caressed by both men was a great source
of comfort for Gabor, and his anguish slowly subsided.

"You two don't
know how lucky you are," he said at last.

Özgur and
Ertan exchanged meaningful glances. "Yes we do," Özgur replied. "We know how
precious we are to each other. We know that we have something that we hope to
never, ever lose."

"I once had
someone like that back in Hungary," Gabor began timidly. "His name was Laszlo.
I loved him with every inch of my heart, and I thought that he loved me as
well. We were together for eight years. Then one day he came home and told me
that he was leaving. He never told me why. He mentioned something about "the ocean"
being "full of all different kinds of fish" and wanting to get away and
explore. All these years I've had to guess why he picked that moment to leave
me. Was it something I said or did? I've racked my brains trying to remember
what it was that I must have done to drive him away, but in the end I cannot
remember a thing. Nothing that would cause him to leave me like that. What I do
know for certain is that he totally and completely broke me. Since then I've
been hesitant to become involved with anyone else in the hopes that Laszlo
might one day change his mind and take me back. If he were to do that I would
have given up everything I have here and moved back to Hungary with him. Now I
know how foolish I've been."

As he
listened, Özgur's heart broke a little. He had always picked up the vibe that
Gabor was lonely, and while he had definitely been attracted to Gabor due to
his boyish good looks and charm, it was also the sense of loneliness and
carefully concealed sadness that caused him to take great pity and affection on
the man.

"I'm so sorry,
dear one," Özgur told Gabor, his tone full of sympathy. He embraced the younger
man tightly. "You're too good to have to experience such sorrow. I can only
hope that Ertan and I have been good to you."

"Oh, you have,
you have," Gabor assured him emphatically. "You've been wonderful. You'll never
know how much I've enjoyed and appreciated this evening."

The three men
embraced for some time. At last they got up and put their clothes back on,
donning their coats and going outside for a smoke. The night was bitterly cold,
and all three smoked their cigarettes quickly in order to return to the warmth
of the house. They were still working on their smokes when a thought occurred
to Özgur. He looked at Ertan and the idea became apparent to him almost as if
the two possessed telepathic capabilities. It gave Ertan a moment's pause, but
at last he nodded in the affirmative.

"Gabor," Özgur
began. "It's so cold out, and we've enjoyed your company very much. To put it simply,
we were wondering if you would like to stay the night here with us. We can
drive you back tomorrow. What do you say to that?"

Gabor was
deeply touched by the offer, but felt he couldn't take it. "I would love to so
much, but Tómi, my cat...I have to feed him."

"Couldn't you
have a neighbor feed him?" Ertan suggested. Gabor thought about this. He really
had no desire to go back home in the cold, and he was relishing every second
with his hosts. He had a spare key under his doormat, and his closest neighbor
knew about it. He decided to go along with Ertan's suggestion. The three men
put their cigarettes out in the ashtray that Özgur had brought outside, and
they went back into the house. The blast of warmth that greeted them was like
manna from heaven. They doffed their coats, and Özgur went to retrieve a
telephone for Gabor.

Ertan showed
Gabor to the living room. "Come, have a seat. It's much more comfortable in
here," he motioned. Gabor followed him hesitantly and sat down on the nearest
sofa. Ertan sat beside him and put his arm around him.

"You're still
shy, I can see that," he told the younger man, who responded by blushing.
"That's alright," Ertan assured him. "This has been a lot to experience in one
night."

"I really have
had a wonderful time," Gabor insisted, "and I cannot thank you enough for
allowing me to here with you and Özgur."

"Think nothing
of it," Ertan kissed Gabor on the cheek, causing Gabor to blush a deeper shade.
He looked up at Ertan and grinned, dimples ornamenting his cheeks. Özgur
returned to the living room and seated himself beside them, handing the
telephone to Gabor. Gabor made his call and was relieved to hear that his
neighbor would gladly feed Tómi. He thanked the neighbor profusely and ended
the call, handing the phone back to Özgur. Ertan got up to make some drinks,
and Özgur scooted closer to Gabor, placing a hand on the latter's knee.

"Why don't you
tell me a little bit about yourself, if you don't mind. How long have you lived
in the States?" he asked Gabor.

"Three years.
I came out here in August of 2003."

"Have you
lived in New York all this time?"

"Yes, although
I really wanted to go to California, and I still do." He grinned. "I had this
dream of going to Hollywood and becoming an actor. It was actually my mother's
idea. She kept telling me that I was handsome and charismatic enough to take
the world by storm. As far as I know I have no acting abilities, but this
didn't stop my mother from encouraging me. Maybe someday I'll make it out
there. It would be nice to have warm weather year round. How long have you and
Ertan been here?"

"We have
lived in America for twelve years. Four of them were in Chicago, two in Los
Angeles, and for the rest of the time we've been here. Up until about a year
ago we lived right on Central Park. We had the most incredible bedroom view. It
was amazing. We moved out here to Manhasset when Ertan's company relocated to
Long Island. I usually take the subway into Manhattan every day, but
occasionally I drive, like today."

"What is
Ertan's line of work?"

"He is a
graphics designer. He's good at what he does because he's very technical and
extremely intelligent. He could solve practically any problem relating to
computers or networking. And he's got great artistic talents."

"Where
in Turkey were you originally from?"

"We were both
born and raised in Izmir, although I went to university in Ankara at age
eighteen and lived there for years. Ertan stayed in Izmir for university and
came to Ankara when he was twenty-two years old. He's three years younger than
me, but he was so intelligent and savvy with computers that the firm decided to
take him on right out of university. We met at a work-related auction. That was
1983, and we've been hopelessly in love ever since." He smiled, reminiscing on
the good times.

"I was born in
Debrecen, which is a small city in Hungary," Gabor began. "But we moved to
Budapest when I was quite small. I spent my entire childhood and most of my
adulthood there. My mother worked as a model ever since she was young, and my
sister was a runner-up for Miss Hungary in 1986. People used to tell me that I
should model too; almost everyone thought my sister and I were twins, but I'm
two years younger. She and I were very close, and she always accepted my
homosexuality. But it came as quite a blow to my parents to discover that
I was gay, particularly my father. He wouldn't speak to me for years. Only in
the last decade or so has he made an effort to tolerate my existence and accept
me for who I am." He sighed. "Of course, that was also around the time that
Laszlo left me."

Omir moved his
hand from Gabor's knee to his shoulder, patting it in sympathy. "I'm very
sorry," he told him.

"That really
does mean a lot to me," Gabor said. "You are very kind."

They continued
making small talk until Ertan came back with a tray holding three cups of warm
anise. He and Özgur imbibed theirs enthusiastically while Gabor drank his
slowly, trying to acclimate himself to the exotic flavor. The taste was not
altogether unpleasant; in fact, it reminded him a bit of the soups that his
grandmother would serve when he was a boy in Hungary. There was a slight kick
to the drink that he recognized as gin. He finished his cup--several minutes
after his hosts had downed theirs--and placed it on the tray. The gin mixed in
left him feeling warm and pleasant.

"Would you
like to watch television?" Özgur asked Gabor. "Ertan and I are going to
shower."

"Yes, that
would be fine," Gabor responded. Ertan opened a drawer next to the sofa and
produced a remote control. He switched on the T.V. and handed the remote to
Gabor. Then the Turks left the room and headed towards their bedroom. Gabor
switched through the channels until he came upon a show that he liked, "The
Office."

Once in their
bedroom bathroom, Özgur and Ertan doffed their clothes and turned on the shower
head. As they stepped under the warm current, they began conversing in Turkish.

"So what do
you think of him?" Özgur asked as he lathered up a loofah and applied it to
Ertan's back.

Ertan laughed
and replied, "You could have saved me a lot of grief by telling me up front
that you felt sorry for him. I would have gone along with the whole scheme far
more willingly."

"Well I did
take pity on him, but I also think he's a kind, beautiful fellow," Özgur
returned somewhat defensively. He soaped up his hands and washed Ertan's
genital and perineal regions. Ertan moaned as he did so.

"He
certainly is that," he concurred. "Delightful, he is." He turned
around and planted a kiss on Özgur's lips. "My turn," he said, snatching
the loofah from his lover and lathering it up with soap. He applied it to
Özgur's chest, rubbing in small circles. Then he trailed it downwards until he
was washing between Özgur's legs.

"We should
have invited him in here," Özgur intoned breathlessly as his lover rubbed
the soapy loofah along his penis and directly above. "He may be lonely, but
he knows how to play the role of a good guest."

"Yes. A bit
on the shy side, but very sweet nonetheless. You were right, although I do not
know why that surprises me. You're always right. Our Bálinyi is as charming as
he is handsome," Ertan agreed. He set aside the loofah and squirted a
dollop of shampoo into his hands and applied it to Özgur's hair. Once his head
was sufficiently lathered, Özgur stood under the current of water and let the
soap wash out. He then took his turn washing Ertan's hair.

"And he is
handsome, isn't he?" Özgur declared as the two men exited the shower.
They took turns toweling one another off and then put on their robes and combed
their damp hair.

"He definitely
has a post-adolescent beauty about him," Ertan replied. "Of course, he's
got nothing on you, Özgurça." The two men kissed.

They had a
complex and very beautiful hookah system in their room, and usually they smoked
from it several times a week; with their guest here on this particular evening,
however, they decided to forego the hookah and spend that time with Gabor. They
brushed their teeth and left the bathroom. When they arrived back in the living
room, Gabor was nearly asleep and just barely watching the T.V. His head was
leaning back on one of the sofa's pillows, his legs were curled together on an
ottoman, and his entire body was shifted slightly to the right as if fighting
the effects of gravity and looming sleep. When his hosts entered the room, he
sat up slightly and smiled, rubbing his eyes.

"Do you want
to shower now?" Ertan asked. Gabor considered this: he was incredibly tired and
would have liked to simply plop down into bed, but the idea of torrents of hot
water washing over him and relaxing his muscles was very appealing. He answered
Ertan in the affirmative and arose from the sofa, straightening up the pillows
that he had used and ruffled. Özgur switched off the television and placed the
remote control back into the drawer. While Ertan took Gabor into the bedroom,
Özgur made his final rounds around the house, making certain that all the doors
and windows were locked. He then turned on the security alarm and ambled back
to the bedroom. Ertan was laying out the blankets on the bed while Gabor
showered. Having fluffed up all the pillows, the two men crawled underneath the
covers and waited for Gabor to join them. About five minutes later he came out
of the bathroom wearing a spare robe that the men had lent him. He removed it
and hung it on the bedpost along with his hosts' robes, then climbed into bed
next to Ertan, pulling the blankets over him. He smelled wonderful. His hosts
kissed each other goodnight, and then Özgur said, "Why don't we have Gabor
sleep between the two of us?"

Gabor had no
objections to this suggestion and made his way between the two men. Having
settled himself, he grinned contentedly.

"Thank you
again," he said. "You two have been the kindest that anyone has been to me in a
while."

Özgur leaned forward
and kissed him lovingly, then said, "You are most welcome, love."

Gabor turned
around to face Ertan, who took his turn kissing Gabor. "It has been our
pleasure," he said when the kiss was broken.

Özgur switched
off the bedside lamp and the three settled their way into sleep. The bed was
king-sized, but even so the men huddled close together. Özgur had his arm
around Gabor and was slowly drifting into a peaceful slumber. He was very
pleased with the way the evening had worked out. Gabor felt warm and protected
between the two older men, and he fell asleep almost immediately. He hadn't
felt this happy in months. Ertan had enjoyed the evening very much as well, and
he had taken to Gabor quite strongly by this point. Sleep came quickly for him
as he laid his arm across Gabor, intertwining it with Özgur's.

*

The next
morning Gabor awoke to the heady aroma of coffee. Özgur and Ertan were in bed
next to him drinking from large mugs.

"Good
morning," Ertan smiled when he saw that Gabor was awake.

"Did you sleep
well?" Özgur asked.

"Yes, thank
you," Gabor replied.

"Would you
like some coffee?" Ertan asked him.

"Thank you
very much, yes," Gabor responded, taking the mug that Ertan handed him. He
started off with a small sip, sampling the flavor. It was a very strong Turkish
blend. He drank it down, feeling himself spring fully awake. When he was
finished he handed the mug back to Ertan. Then the men brushed their teeth and
put on their clothes.

Gabor felt
strange about having to leave. Even though he had only been here less than
twenty-four hours; even though he found the house cold despite its warm
temperature; even though prior to yesterday he had barely even known Özgur, let
alone Ertan; even though his cat was at his apartment; even though his hosts
lived out in the suburbs while he lived in the heart of Manhattan; in spite of
all this, he felt like this was home. It was a feeling that he hadn't
experienced in a long, long time.

Ertan had
grown to like Gabor a lot, and he felt sadness and pity at having to send him
home, but it did not weigh particularly heavily on his mind--it was simply
something that had to be done. Özgur experienced pangs of sorrow at the
prospect of driving Gabor all the way back to the city. Having invited him to
his home and served him with food and bodily pleasure, Özgur had begun to
regard Gabor's well-being and happiness as his own responsibility. Gabor had
displayed such joy in his and Ertan's presence; he had also shown that he was
phenomenally lonely, vulnerable, and starved for affection. Özgur did not know
how in good conscience he could dump Gabor back at the steps of his apartment,
where his only source of companionship was his cat, after having briefly
presented him with such pleasure. It seemed almost cruel.

Meanwhile,
Ertan had fixed a small meal of pita bread, hummus, and olive oil, and the men
snacked in the kitchen. After cleaning up, they headed out to Özgur's car.
During the drive back to Gabor's apartment, Gabor sat in the front passenger's
seat while Ertan was in the back. The three men smoked cigarettes and talked
idly. As downtown Manhattan approached, a sense of dread settled into Gabor's
chest. He didn't want to leave Özgur and Ertan. He didn't want to return to his
drab apartment. He didn't even want to see his cat Tómi at the moment. A part
of him would have been perfectly content to simply be with the Turks and lie in
their bed forever, making love for all eternity and occasionally taking breaks
to smoke or drink coffee.

As they drove
through Times' Square, Gabor gave Özgur directions to his apartment. When they
arrived, Ertan and Özgur got out of the car and walked Gabor to the front
steps. They took turns hugging and kissing him on the cheeks, telling him how
much they had loved spending the night with him and that he was welcome back
any time. This made Gabor so happy he didn't even know how to respond. He
simply grinned and embraced both his hosts so tightly that they reacted with
surprise and delight. They said their goodbyes, and then Özgur pulled out his
wallet and took out a card, which he handed to Gabor. Along with Özgur's name
and work telephone number, two additional phone numbers had been written by
hand at the top of the card.

"The top one
is our home number, and the other one is my cell," he explained. "If ever you
feel like calling me or you just need someone to talk to, please do not
hesitate to dial either of these numbers. You would not be imposing on me, and
I would love to hear from you. So would Ertan. Last night was amazing; it meant
a lot to us, and I know it did to you as well."

For the fourth
time in less than twenty-four hours tears came to Gabor. He tried to say
something pithy or substantive, but instead he said what was simply on his mind
and in his heart: "I love you." He took both men's hands in his and kissed them
both on the mouth.

Özgur and
Ertan exchanged a look, then Özgur, his voice full of emotion, said "And I love
you, Gabor."

"As do I,"
Ertan echoed, smiling.

As Ertan and
Özgur got back into the car, Özgur called out, "I'll see you Monday morning.
Don't forget to call us anytime!"

"I won't,"
Gabor replied. He thought about what he had just said, then called back, "I
mean, I won't forget. I will call you!"

Özgur and
Ertan drove away, enjoying the New York City winter scenes. They passed through
Times' Square again, observing all the hustle and bustle and the life. Of
everything that New York had to offer--the night scene, the deposits of culture,
the restaurants, the many job opportunities, the myriad different stores--in the
end it was the city's sense of life that so appealed to both Özgur and
Ertan. As they drove home they did not speak much, but the entire time they
exchanged tender smiles and held hands. Words were not necessary.

Gabor Bálinyi
entered his apartment and greeted Tómi, who jumped into his arms and rubbed
himself against his chest. He turned on the lights and adjusted the
temperature. Having given the cat some milk, he sat down on his couch and
flipped on the television. He did not really watch, however, as he thought
about how lucky he was. Normally he hated coming home to his lonely apartment;
even Tómi offered only small comfort. Today, however, he knew that he no longer
had any reason to be lonely. That knowledge was both profoundly reassuring and
liberating. Gabor had been wounded, first by his father and later by Laszlo,
and he had carried the scars for far too long. Now he could finally let them
heal, move on, and never look back. As the day turned into evening and the
evening turned into night, his heart was filled with serenity and joy. He went
out on the town for the first time in weeks, eating out, checking out stores,
and catching a Broadway show. His life had changed, and it was fantastic.